


Hard Liquor Mixed With A Bit Of Intellect

by huntersandangels



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempt at Humor, Drunk Texting, Light Angst, M/M, Texting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 07:58:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15115091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntersandangels/pseuds/huntersandangels
Summary: “I accidentally drunk texted the wrong number and proposed to you and now you keep texting me and asking me the date and time of the wedding and if you should arrange the venue.”





	Hard Liquor Mixed With A Bit Of Intellect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ratedrrebel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratedrrebel/gifts).



> I had this prompt written down ages ago so I unfortunately don’t have the link of the original tumblr post.
> 
> This is my first story for this pairing and it was a request from ratedrrebel after reading [ this ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14970950) Jonny/Patrick version.
> 
> To anyone who might have read my previous story, though similar in title, the two are completely different.
> 
> Title –obviously- borrowed from Harry Styles’ ‘Kiwi’.
> 
> Disclaimer: The parts that aren’t true are obviously lies. Real people belong to themselves ( ~~and possibly each other~~ ) I’m just messing around ‘with’ them for entertainment purposes only.
> 
> Unbeta'd, all mistakes belong to me.
> 
> To avoid any confusion, throughout the story, Louis’ texts will be in bold while Harry’s in italics.

Louis stumbled into his apartment just as the first morning light faintly tried to sneak a peek through the heavy clouds even if it wasn’t its right time just yet.

He toed off his Vans and grabbing the bottled water, he downed the painkillers he had already left on his nightstand. He made a mental note to rub Liam’s nose in it next time he called him a disorganised mess.

For now, he had more important things to worry about. He just couldn’t remember what they were exactly. Maybe if he rested his head on his soft, cold pillow a bit, the pounding in his head would stop and his mind would clear enough to remember.

He gently brushed a stray hair out of his eye and turned on his side, squirming around trying to get comfortable enough so that he could rest his eyelids to stop the room from spinning so damn much.

He felt something hard digging in his thigh and definitely not in the sexy way. He fumbled with his too long sleeve and patted the spot beside him but the only firm thing to be found there was his sheet covered mattress.

With a deep groan he laid on his back and the tension on his thigh eased. He ran his palm over to sooth the sting and his hand connected with the solid object.  He tried shoving his hand down his pants but his jeans were too tight for it to fit. With a grunt and a bit of wriggling he managed to undo the button. Whatever had dug into his thigh it was no longer there, yet his knuckles could still feel it.

He pulled his hand out and slammed it in frustration. There, he felt it again. Groping his leg going upwards he found a ridge and an opening. His fingers grazed the rim of something sleek and stiff. A bit of more fumbling and he felt something crispy and crumbly.

His eyes opened wide, causing the stars behind his eyelid to explode, but it was a small price to pay for the magnificent epiphany. He gently retrieved the small treasure from the confinement of his pocket and the moment he was satisfied it was safe he yanked the offensive item out.

The screen light hurt his eyes, that instinctively tried to shut, but Louis’ willpower forced them to stay open. It took all the strength he possessed to focus his attention to the task. He glanced at the small treasure and fumbled with the phone buttons. He couldn’t let the little devils win.

It took him three tries and four re-checks but as soon as he was satisfied he had done it right he opened the camera feature.

The flash from the camera almost rendered him blind but this wasn’t a task for quitters. He had a promise to keep. He didn’t remember to whom or how or why, he just knew it was important. So he snapped a shot, with his fingers barely visible, the crinkles by his eyes on full display and the whole messy blur -that might or might not have been a figment of his imagination- and hit send.

**yer lovely n c? i'm hubby material. marry me?**

He let the phone slip through his palms and laid his head on his pillow, a soft smile on his lips and bright, moist green behind his now closed eyelids.

 

\-----------------------

 

 

Louis woke up in a foul mood and not because his mouth felt like he had swallowed cotton balls or because hammers and saws were working overtime inside his head. No, his homicidal streak was about to start with whatever fucker had forgotten the rule and decided to text him non-stop and had made his much needed beauty sleep a trial.

The fact that in his sleepy grumpiness he couldn’t find his damn phone so he can hurl it to the fucking wall was yet to be determined as a curse or a blessing.

He did his best to wash away the stench and the sweat, he drank his tea and ate his greasy leftovers and swallowed a few more painkillers before he deemed himself clear-headed enough to plan the homicide in a way that didn’t land him in jail -- because contrary to popular belief he was way too picky as to whom he allowed near his glorious backside.

Whatever he was mentally preparing himself for, this was definitely not it. The number was unknown, which on its own was weird enough but the context was way beyond rhyme or reason.

 

_♫_ _we dnt need no piece of paper frm th city hall_ _♫_

_♫_ _(but) itz a btfl 9t ( n ) we're lkn fr sth dum to do (so yes) I thnk I wanna marry u!!!_ _♫_

_♫_ _we're gng2 da chapel n we're gona gt married!!!!_ _♫_

Louis didn’t know what to ignore first; the music notes, the appalling grammar, the mixture of music genres or the insanity of the person who had texted him. Choices, choices.

What he couldn’t flout though was the beginning of this weird convo.

“Fuck me!” He let out a deep groan and buried his aching head in his hands but however much he wished he could hide, some things just couldn’t be unseen; Such as his blurry, drunk-hooded eyes staring right at him from a shelfie he had no recollection of ever taken let alone sending.

He surely had taken drunk-texting to another whole new level; One that included a marriage proposal to a total stranger. A stranger that now knew both his number and his face. A stranger, who seemed to be equally three sheets to the wind and had accepted a marriage proposal from some random bloke.

Forget jail, he was going to end up in the paper announcements and definitely not in the wedding column.

Louis was currently residing in a Hell of his own making.

In a desperate attempt to save his life (shut up, Liam he is so _not_ a drama queen), he collected himself, put on his polite persona and sent an apology.

 

**Sorry, I guess I drunk-texted the wrong number.**

 

He hoped it would suffice because he was so not ready for those ‘I told you so’s ’  even beyond the grave.

 

\------------

 

Whatever sense of security he had managed to regain went crumbling an hour later when his phone started chiming with new messages from the same unknown number.

 

_♫_ _don’t go breaking my heart_ _♫_

_was it something I said?_

_‘cause I can probably fix it..._

“Jesus. What the hell?” He exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief.

 

**who is this?**

 

The reply was almost instantaneous.

 

_‘M Harry._

 

Yep, definitely didn’t ring a bell.

**Sorry, don’t know you.**

 

_Does anyone know anybody, really?_

Jesus Christ, who is this guy? Louis was starting to lose whatever little patience he had left.

 

**Look, mate, I’m way too hangover for this. Again, I’m sorry for the mix-up.**

 

For fifteen glorious minutes, Louis thought he was off the hook. Then his phone beeped.

 

_does this mean I have to cancel our wedding registry?_

_because I was really looking forward to this Pukka Home Royal Series tea set._

_it’s the same as the Queen’s._

_Probably._

_But_

_It’s_

_PINK!!!_

 

At the end, there was a selfie attached. If you consider an attempt at facial hair and two pink, plush lips forming a pout a selfie.

Louis chuckled despite himself. The fact that his tongue darted out to wet his chapped lips was unrelated to the image; and so was the fluttering in his stomach at a hint of a strong, masculine jaw underneath.

**Sorry, mate. You’d have to use regular just like the rest of us commoners do.**

 

_But... pink *sad face emoji*_

_Do you have something against pink?_

 

Louis logically knew he had to put a stop to this madness but he still found himself replying.

 

**I have five sisters. I’m no stranger to pink.**

 

_Five?? Wow!!_

_Don’t be absurd! Colours are not gender specific!_

_I’ll have you know, real men wear pink!_

**And one brother.**

**On Wednesdays, we wear pink!**

**Shimmer down! You _are_ a real boy Pinocchio!**

_Okay, yeah, I’ll definitely marry you!_

Things were reaching a very dangerous territory again and Louis thought it was time to call it quits.

 

**Goodbye, Harold.**

_That’s not my name._

_Goodbye, fiancé whose name I still don’t think I know, talk to you later._

Even if someone held a gun to his head, Louis still wouldn’t be able to tell them what exactly possessed him to reply.

 

**Louis.**

**My name is Louis.**

\-------------------

 

The next wave of texts didn’t come until nightfall, when Louis was settling down with a nice cup of tea for a relaxing evening in front of his TV.

 

_Are you thinking a small gathering or an open wedding?_

_City hall, church or something else?_

 

Louis shook his head in disbelief yet he could feel the corners of his lips turning upwards in what seemed the start of a smile.

 

**I think you need a hobby.**

 

_There’s no time for that, Louis._

_Do you know how much time and effort it takes to plan a wedding?_

 

**No, but I have a feeling you’re about to tell me, groomzilla!**

_A lot, like a whole ton!_

_Hey, I’m not! Take that back!_

 

Louis let out a belly-shaking chuckle. Weirdly enough, he could almost hear the affronted tone spoken in a soft chide. As for the pout, there was a slight chance that he might have memorised every ridge and groove on those rosy, plump lips.

Perhaps. Maybe.  Just a tad. Nothing overly-obsessive and weird or anything.

 

**And what if I don’t? Are you gonna recede my invitation?**

_Uhm... Well, no, but ...I’ll..._

_Ha! You’ll sleep on the couch!!! I’m keeping the bed!_

Louis couldn’t for the life of him remember when the last time he had laughed this hard was; or, when he last thought that a –somewhat failed- threat could actually be deemed as adorable.

 

**Fine! But can we have sex first?**

_Ugh, you’re impossible._

**I can’t be impossible. I exist. I believe what you meant to say was ‘you’re improbable’.**

_That’s a misquotation if I ever read any._

**Oh, look at you all posh and proper using fancy words.**

_Oh, sod off, you git!_

**Now that wasn’t very nice, was it?**

_Goodnight, Louis._

**Goodnight, sweetcheeks!**

 

\-------------------

 

The following morning, Louis was rudely awakened at 8:38 on the dot.

 

_What is your favourite flower?_

**For fuck’s sake Harry. Do you know what time it is?**

_Did I wake you?_

**You think???**

_I’m sorry but I’m in the flower market and I need an answer. It’s important._

**What is important is me fucking sleep, Harold, which I lost the moment I met you.**

_Oh, knock it off, you flatterer!_

 

**I hate you!**

 

_No, you don’t._

 

The thing was, for some inexplicable reason Harry was right. Louis didn’t hate him, he even found himself somewhat liking the lad’s quirkiness. Even his annoyance was more grumble than bite.

It didn’t make any sense. Then again very little did at that time of the day.

 

Harry let him resume sleep for a whole grand total of three and a half glorious hours.

_How do you feel about flower crowns?_

 

Before he could even think let alone reply, the picture assault started; image after image of radiant wispy, chocolate curls crowned by flowers in all sizes and shapes.

A mixture of colour invaded Louis’ screen; blue, yellow, lavender, pink and white. Some full on floral, others in what looked like knotted twigs with buds scattered at carefully arranged places. The last one made of golden green leaves.

There weren’t any facial features in the frames yet he could have sworn that Harry was beaming in each and every one of them. Louis found it hard to swallow.

The haziness in his fuzzy brain was most likely responsible for his reply. If asked he’d try to laugh it off as a joke.

 

**hahahaha I am being slowly seduced by your curls.**

 

_i know.. That was my plan._

 

Louis hated to admit that it was working. So, he didn’t.

 

\----------------

 

 

They formed somewhat of a bizarre routine where Harry would text him random questions at all hours of the day and Louis would sigh and groan but still reply to each and every one of them, with a hint of sarcasm and a dos of sass.

 

_What is your favourite colour?_

**The colour of your absence.**

_So, what’s that like? It’s not included in my chart._

_Is it in the cool section?_

**Leave me alone!**

_Ok, how about blue? Royal, navy or sapphire?_

**Green, ok? My favourite colour is green.**

_Forest green, mossy green or olive green?_

**Stop texting me!**

*******

 

_Would 6 pm on a Saturday work for you?_

**I’d much rather take my chances with the dawn of the dead.**

_But I thought you weren’t a morning person._

 

***

 

_We need to pick a date._

**The 28 th of never works for you?**

_Ok, 28 th of September. Sounds good._

 

***

_Should I close the venue?_

**Yeah, in the corner of sod and bugger off.**

_Is that in London? ‘Cause I don’t know if I can travel._

**Yes, right in the centre of the deepest pits of Hell.**

_Oh, so St, Martin’s-in-the-Fields overlooking Trafalgar Square._

_I like it. It has a fountain._

_Maybe they will let us hang fairy lights and scatter flower petals in the water._

**Maybe they should have you committed.**

_I’m committed to you already ;)_

 

***

 

_Do you want to wear white?_

**I’d rather poke myself in the eye.**

 

***

 

_Do you know how to waltz?_

**Tango, too. Fancy going ballroom dancing?**

_I say we should old chap..away to it now?_

**Take a hike.**

_But it’s cold_ _L_

 

***

 

_I’ve always wanted to call my daughter Darcy._

***gasp* Harold are you pregnant? I thought we were safe.**

_I use McAfee. What do you have?_

**A headache.**

 

_________________

 

 

Somehow their quirky texting relationship continued throughout the whole month and by the end of it Louis would begrudgingly admit, at least to himself, that he rather enjoyed their interactions; wedding craziness aside.

In a few instances he caught himself being somewhat concerned as to whether Harry was actually going ahead with the plans to marry a total stranger or not. On some lonely nights when he laid his weary body in an empty bed he couldn’t help but wonder if that would actually be such a bad idea.

By morning he’d dismissed those thoughts as foolish.

 

 

\--------------------------

 

 

It was a usual day, nothing out of the ordinary. London was as humid and foggy as ever, the traffic a nightmare. His friends were downing beers with big gulps, talking gibberish and throwing chips at each other while Liam was silently judging all of them; typical Sunday pub lunch.

 

_Louis?_

 

That was new.

 

**What now?**

 

_Nothing. You’re probably busy. Sorry._

 

Definitely weird.

 

**At the pub with the lads. I have time.**

**What are the choices this time? Tulle or lace? Plaid or chequered?**

 

_No. No choices. No questions._

 

The sense of dread that filled him came out of nowhere and took him by surprise.

**Harry? Are you ok?**

_No, not really._

 

Louis wasn’t even going to bother fighting losing battles. Logic went out of the window and instead every cell in his body was screaming insane things like ‘ _protect’_ and ‘ _shield_ ’ and ‘ _mine’_ while a fierce anger internally screamed at whomever had dared to dull Harry’s cheeky demeanour.

 

**Can I help?**

 

_No, not really._

 

**Tell me what to do, Harry.**

 

Louis hadn’t felt this powerless and helpless in a very long time.

 

_Nothing. It’s nothing. Forget about it._

 

**Harry, come on, this isn’t you.**

 

_You don’t even know me._

 

And what was Louis supposed to answer to that? Technically he didn’t; they haven’t even met, yet Louis could name all of Harry’s favourite things.

 

**Please, talk to me.**

 

_I’m just having a bad day. I’ll get over it._

 

Louis wanted to push, oh, God how he wanted. If he wasn’t too afraid of scaring him off he would have asked to meet him in a heartbeat. In the end, he just settled on what he could actually offer.

 

**I’m here if you need me.**

 

Liam nudging his arm shook Louis off his troubled thoughts.

“Everything alright, mate? Who you’ve been texting?”

“My fiancé.” The word tumbled out of his lips on its own accord before Louis could even think twice about it.

“Man, how much did you have to drink?” Liam’s disappointed father voice was the last thing he needed right that instance.

“I’m not drunk, Liam. Calm your tits, babes.”

The next time Liam spoke, Louis could swear his voice was raised an octave. “Louis, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything! How very dare you!” Though his tone was indignant he couldn’t help but avert his eyes.

Liam still called him on his bullshit. “Spill.”

God, Louis hated him sometimes. “It’s nothing. Really.”.

He could feel Liam glaring daggers at him, so he took a deep breath and met his gaze dead on, ready for the challenge.

“Louis.”

“Liam.”

“Louis.”

“I have six siblings, Liam; I can do this all day.”

Liam sighed and shook his head. Then he turned on the sad, puppy eyes and Louis felt like an asshole.

He raised his hands in defeat. “Ok, fine. Remember Ed’s party last month?” he asked.

Liam snorted. “Better than you, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, whatever. So, I drunk-texted a random number I found and proposed to some bloke.” He admitted but was quick to reassure as well, “But it’s not like we’re actually getting married or anything. I haven’t even met him. We’ve just been texting a bit here and there.”

The lie rolled off his tongue easily. He didn’t usually keep secrets from Liam but this, whatever it was, felt too big yet still complicated enough for him to share in its entirety.

Liam let his head thud against the table. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

Louis shrugged. “Ok, I didn’t.”

“Fuck,” Liam cursed again and run his palm over his stupid excuse of haircut. “I owe Niall 50 quid, you arse.”

Louis would deny it with his last breath but indeed he did squeal. “What?”

Liam frowned. “Harry, right? Curly, lanky, cute... Kinda like a baby giraffe?”

“I... I don’t...What?” He was absolutely at a loss for words.

“Niall’s friend, at Ed’s party.” Liam stated as if any of this made sense.

Louis stared at him blankly.

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember. I had to practically drag you out of there before you kidnapped the poor lad.”

“Li-“ he croaked but cleared his throat and tried again. “Liam, what are you saying?”

Liam studied him for a few seconds then understanding lit in his eyes. “Fuck me; you seriously don’t have a clue, do you?”

Louis shook his head. “I.. It was me mum’s-“ he choked up, a lump forming in his throat. It took him three tries and a couple of deep breaths to be able to continue. “I wasn’t exactly sober, was I?”

The compassion in Liam’s eyes could have been his undoing so he averted his gaze. Luckily, his friend didn’t need additional words.

“I don’t know exactly how it started. I think he bumped into you or something and his eyes were red and puffy from the smoke but you thought he was crying-“

Bright, moist green flashed before Louis’ eyes like in a dream.

“You got upset, went totally bonkers, like really offended on his behalf or something. Niall wasn’t helping either, kept nudging you on. You threw a couple of stupid joke that made no sense and he kind of smiled and then –“

“A dimple.” Louis muttered the word dragged from some dark and well-hidden corner of his brain.

 “Yeah,” Liam nodded profusely, “you said something about sunshine and soul mates and how you’re husband material and having your baby, or being your baby or something equally creepy so I gathered it was time you hit the hay.”

Liam paused, searching Louis’ face for even a trace of recognition but Louis didn’t think there was any; only utter and unabashed confusion.

“You didn’t want to leave, kept fighting me all the way, and shouting about how no one can keep you apart or some gibberish like that. Until Niall grabbed a napkin, scribbled Harry’s number and shoved it in your pocket. That’s about all I really know.”

Louis swallowed hard, trying to wrap his head around what he was hearing. “What about—“he ran his palm all over his face “What about Harry?”

“What about him?” Liam asked.

“Did he—“Louis bit his bottom lip, unsure if he wanted to ask the question or if he could handle the answer. “Was he drunk? Did he remember?”

Liam shrugged. “Don’t know. Haven’t seen him since. Niall didn’t say either.”

“What about the 50 quid?” His voice sounded strange even to his own ears, like sandpaper had taken a shinning to his vocal cords and made itself a home there. Inside him something akin to anger was fighting its way to the surface battling with the hurt as to which would be crowned a champion.

Liam groaned. “Niall’s fault. Too much beer; bad judgment call.”

Louis tapped his fingers, impatiently, on the table. “When?”, he growled.

Liam actually leaned back, stunned, looking as if he was afraid all of a sudden. Though Louis couldn’t really blame him; he’d bet more than double that amount that at the time he seemed like his eyes were shooting daggers.

 “I don’t know. Somewhere between you professing your undying love or some shit and Harry staring at you like you hung the moon. Niall will never let me live it down.” The last part was a clear accusation cast at him but Louis couldn’t be bothered.

He took a deep breath, “Was Harry in on it?” he mumbled, wanting desperately to know the answer but dreading it all the same.

Liam must have followed his train of thought because his eyes opened wide and started to vehemently shake his head. “No, man! How could you think-“, his voice cracked and Louis made a mental note to remember to feel like a dick later when everything would have been cleared up.

“It wasn’t like that. We wouldn’t, Louis. I swear.” His tone was pleading and his hand was softly placed over Louis’ entwined fingers.

Louis nodded mutely. His friends weren’t that sort, he knew.

What he didn’t know was where Harry fit in all this. The how’s and why’s were eating him up inside.

He snatched his phone off the table and opened the conversation thread.

 

**Did you know? Did you remember all along?**

 

It took Harry twenty minutes to reply, the longest moments of Louis’ entire life.

 

_Bits and pieces._

 

Louis felt his eyelids close on their own volition. He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved that Harry wasn’t playing coy or if he should be angry at this... this ruse. He didn’t enjoy being taken for a fool.

 

Louis swallowed the bile that was threatening to rise and bit the bullet. Hard.

 

**Then, why?**

 

_Dunno. Seemed less scary that way._

_Safer._

 

**What did?**

_Talkin’...gettin’ to know you._

 

Louis felt his throat close. What was he supposed to answer to that? This raw honesty, the vulnerability, was calling at his most primal protective instincts and he had absolutely no clue as how to handle it.

Harry took the choice off his hands.

 

_‘M sorry._

 

 

_____________

 

 

Louis spent two miserable weeks hating the absence of sound from his device and wallowing in self pity. Somewhere along that first text and Harry’s apology Louis had fallen. Hard. Now he was stewing in a cauldron of Hell forged by his own hand, a fact that Liam had no problem reminding him often.

His friend’s patience and understanding ran out about half way through the woe is me party. Then the name calling started. Louis had never thought that Liam knew that many words, let alone synonyms for idiot. He, himself wasn’t even aware that such a variety even existed.

It wasn’t like he was actually enjoying brooding and maudlin. He had picked his phone to text a thousand times and at each and every one of them words had failed him.

Louis Tomlinson, sass master and king of the quips and he couldn’t string two sentences together to save his aching heart.

If that wasn’t the definition of irony, then Oxford should reconstruct its dictionary.

On the third Sunday, a fed-up Liam barged into his flat and dragged a kicking and screaming Louis out of there by force.

That’s how he found himself at the pub, nursing a beer and rethinking all his life choices; currently, his friendship with Liam and his not so genius idea to grant him an emergency key to his sanctuary.

“Louis. Come on, mate.” Liam tried for the fifth time to engage him in any kind of conversation but Louis continued to keep his mouth shut. No one could out-stubborn him and it was high time his friend understood that.

He only broke once but only to inform Liam that he was still cross with him and to order him to shut his trap.

“Are you done acting like a five year old?” That persistent fucker just wouldn’t give up.

In lieu of an answer, Louis kicked his friend’s chair, resulting in Liam losing his balance and grabbing the table in a vain attempt to keep upright.

Then two things happened at once. Fish and chips and beer bottles went flying all over the place while his friends were flailing and cursing causing chaos to erupt; and a body landed awkwardly into Louis’ lap.

Instinctively, he curled his fingers around the slim hip. Then, his ears got blessed with the most adorable giggle.

“Oops!” a chirpy, deep voice exclaimed, sending shivers down Louis’ spine.

He turned his head and came eyes to... arm with a cacophony of bold prints and colours. Huh, he wasn’t sure how to feel about his personal space being invaded by what seemed to be a giant but for some inexplicable reason he couldn’t wait to put a face to the sound.

He raised his eyes and... froze, jaw dropped wide and mouth hang open.

 Curls and dimples and the face of a Botticelli’s angel; all sharp angles and rosy cheeks.

A face he had to struggle to construct in his dreams, like a puzzle with a few missing pieces...

...Harry.

Time stood still, the room suddenly filled with nothing but eerily silence and two bright, green eyes whose light seemed to dim drastically the longer he went without speaking.

Only Louis felt like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs and he wasn’t sure he could utter a thing.

Harry’s face fell and his teeth dug into his bottom lip, biting and chewing, brutally assaulting the flesh.

The moment he felt the weight trying to lift from his lap, Louis unfroze; panicky fingers swiftly clutching at the bones like a life line.

“Hi.” He cawed in desperation, still too stunned-stupid to come up with anything more eloquent.

 For his effort, Harry rewarded him with a tentative lopsided smile and that slight groove of a still unformed dimple.

Harry’s ‘hi’ in return was softer, almost a whisper and was drawled out of two teeth-abused lips.

Louis had the uncontrollable urge to sooth them with his tongue.

As by its own volition, his hand rose slowly and Louis found himself gently cupping Harry’s cheek.

The sharp intake of breath that thundered in his ears didn’t come from his own mouth. He was too afraid to break the spell to even breathe.

Timid fingers tentatively ran their pads over luscious, velvety flesh.

Louis was a puppet. From somewhere someone unknown was pulling his strings. In this dream-like state he was merely a pawn.

His tongue darted between his parted lips to glide gently over Harry’s bottom one before finding the opened crevice and slipping inside; yet Louis could have sworn he hadn’t moved a muscle.

Whoever was responsible, He landed Louis in a Heaven filled with wet heat and the faint taste of cherries. There was an ongoing battle of tongues and desperate hands clutching at anything they could reach.

Louis sent Him a silent prayer of gratitude and let himself get lost in the feeling.

 

***

 

An unspecific amount of time and a few beers later found a slightly buzzed Louis beaming stupidly staring at nothing, with the comfort of the weight of Harry’s head on his shoulder, his own arm still around him, holding him close to Louis’ side.

Harry nuzzled at his neck, the motion coupled with the other man’s warm breath causing goosebumps and a tinkly feeling to rise from his head to his toes.

“I would have, you know.” Harry whispered softly, almost secretly, right at the shell of his ear.

Louis didn’t bother to suppress the shiver. He let it flow through him, embracing the feeling of rightness and belonging.

He was too blissed-out for words so he just hummed questioningly.

“I would have married you.”

Harry’s confession was delivered in a husky, almost murmured tone but the truth behind the statement was not lost in the softness of the words.

Louis turned his head, blue locked in green and deft fingers ran through unruly curls. “And I’d marry you, Harry.”

 

_____________

 

 

On a warm yet breezy afternoon one late September, Louis stood next to a fountain fumbling nervously with his green tie and the matching pocket square of his form-fitting formal suit.

In the clear waters, flower petals were fighting to stay atop while hundreds of fairy lights danced through the falls, reminding Louis of tiny fireflies.

Satisfied with the results of his attempt at looking sharp (manly and rugged was more his style anyway), Louis reached in his trousers pocket and took out his phone.

He didn’t pause to let himself get lost in the infinite green that greeted him on the screen; he had a lifetime for that. Instead, his dexterous fingers worked quickly to put the final touch in a well laid plan.

 

**Harold, up for it?**

 

A heartbeat and a beep later was enough for the bliss to come through and wash all over him.

_I’m up for it._

 

___________________________________

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://oflovesandlikes.tumblr.com/)


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